Deathly Hallows' Missing Moments
by plansandsilhouettes
Summary: Mostly revolving around Ron and Hermione, but I might include other characters from time to time! A good mixture of fluff, angst and hopefully humour, and I will really appreciate any feedback - criticism or praise!
1. Grimmauld Place

It was no good. Hermione had been lying there for what felt like hours, trying to get to sleep. She was so anxious about what they were going to try to do tomorrow. If they were caught…well, it didn't bear thinking about. She shuffled out of her sleeping bag, and stepped off the cushions Ron had so gallantly demanded she sleep on. She looked down on him for a few moments, peacefully asleep, and a small sigh escaped her, and a smile spread across her face.

Suddenly, remembering why she had got up in the first place, she turned away from his sleeping figure and left the room, creeping down the many flights of stairs to the kitchen, where she began to make a cup of tea.  
There was always something soothing about brewing one, Hermione pondered. Perhaps it was because it was so habitual to her, so routine, that it could make any situation feel normal. A noise interrupted her musings: the sound of someone entering the kitchen.  
She glanced up, looking briefly into his eyes. Ron looked as worried as she felt, and the knots in her stomach tightened - what would she do if anything happened to him tomorrow?  
'Hermione,' he said gruffly. 'What in the name of Merlin's beard are you doing down here?' Despite his angry tone, Ron looked immensely relieved.  
'Making tea, Ronald, what does it look like?' She smiled and turned to face him now, clutching her mug, and meeting his gaze.  
'Well I can see that, Hermione, I'm not blind, but I thought, maybe, perhaps, well, I was worried that you'd - '  
'Gone, Ron? Left?' asked Hermione, seemingly irate. 'You can't really think I would, or could, leave now, do you?' She choked, before continuing: 'I've had to charm my parents into forgetting everything about me. Doesn't that show you anything about my commitment to this?' She began to cry, and Ron's expression changed from bewilderment to pain.  
'No, honestly, Hermione, I was only worried you'd been snatched or something. I woke up and you'd just gone - no note or anything. I thought something wasn't right...you weren't there. I didn't mean to upset you, I was just worried. I don't know what I'd - I mean we'd - do without you, Hermione, Harry and I.'  
'Oh,' she squeaked softly, looking up at him once more, with an embarrassed expression.  
'I know this hasn't been easier for us…especially not you, and I didn't mean to upset you.' He looked so apologetic that Hermione couldn't doubt it.  
She shivered suddenly, leading Ron to look even more concerned. 'Are you all right, Hermione? You must be freezing, no slippers, no robe - it's not exactly toasty down here! What are you playing at?' She shivered again. 'Bloody hell, come here.' Ron pulled her towards him, into a tight hug.  
'Hermione, you know when this is over you'll be able to find your parents and make them remember. You're a brilliant witch; you know that,' he said softly, speaking mostly into her hair.  
'Thank you, Ron,' she whispered back. They stood there for a few moments, enjoying each other's affection. 'Ron?' said Hermione 'I'd like to go back to bed now.'  
'Ah, right, sorry' said Ron sheepishly, however, Hermione's smile as he released her relieved him.'  
The two made their way back to the room where Harry was still sound asleep, and climbed into their sleeping bags.  
'Ron, would you mind coming a bit closer?' Hermione whispered after a few minutes. 'You don't have to, if you don't want to...I just feel lonely over here.' Suddenly she was intensely glad that it was dark so he couldn't see her embarrassment.  
'Oh, okay,' Ron shuffled towards her; secretly glad of the invitation to do so.  
They lay in silence for a while, until Hermione said, nervously,  
'Just so you know, Ron, I don't know what I'd do without you either.'  
And it was then that Ron felt her fingers brush against his, and come to rest on his hand. 


	2. Ron's Departure

Dear Ron,

Why? Why, did you have to leave me like this? You cannot know how much this hurts; if you did I couldn't believe it of you to inflict on me, and Harry. Harry, your best friend. You hurt him with your anger, and he is pretending to be okay without you. You know he needs you. We are both pretending, actually, I wonder at how I manage not to simply cry all day. You were out of control, Ron, over-powered by the locket, and you didn't mean what you said. You didn't mean to storm out like that, did you? I want to believe that you didn't, but could be completely wrong? Have you changed completely from the Ron I knew and loved?  
I'm missing you every minute, every day here; well, here, there and everywhere. We said we would do this together, Ron, the three of us. It feels so wrong without you here. You don't know it, but I depend on you to calm and soothe me when I'm anxious. You do it simply by being there. God, Ron, if you could only see me now, I know you would realise how I feel about you. I think you feel the same, but then I think back to last year, and her...  
How am I ever going to know now? I might never see you again. These times are so uncertain, and so dangerous, and I need and want nothing more than your presence here, to reassure me. But that hasn't happened, not tonight, or last night, or the nights before that. Sometimes I fear that you are never coming back, and that you've cast us off forever...please prove me wrong; I'm begging you, Ron.

I need you.  
I miss you.  
I love you.

Hermione.


	3. Shell Cottage

It was a few days since Malfoy Manor, and still Hermione couldn't sleep. She was restless, haunted - Bellatrix pursued her, in her dreams, where ever she turned. She kept reliving the terror of that night over, and over, tossing and turning, sweating and eventually crying out:

"Arrghhh! Nooo! RON!" she sat up in bed, panting, crying, and terrified.

"Blimey, Ron, I think she might want you, mate," grumbled Harry in the living room below.

"Mmmffg, she needs you," agreed Dean in a muffled voice from within his sleeping bag. Ron, however, was already half way up the stairs by this time, hair ruffled, pyjamas askew and his borrowed dressing gown half on. He burst into Hermione's small bedroom, and was greeted by sobs. He stepped into the room, shut the door, and sat beside her on the bed.

"Shh, Hermione, I'm here, it's okay. We're at Bill and Fleur's, remember? She won't get you here, we are all safe." he soothed, sweeping her into his arms. "You're shaking, Hermione, do you want me to make you some tea? Or wake Fleur and see what she can do for you? Maybe some Honeydukes chocolate...' he trailed off.

"No, Ron, don't wake Fleur, or anyone else..." whispered Hermione, between sobs. "I don't want a fuss, this is so embarrassing...every time I close my eyes, Ron, I see her. Her face, and I hear her laughing, you shouting, and I remember thinking that I was going to die, Ron." She turned to face him, and whispered "I'm so sorry for waking you up, you didn't need to come up here like this,"

"Hermione, I promise I don't mind. I mean, she would have, you know, and if Dobby hadn't... well we wouldn't be here, talking. It was really traumatic, she had a knife to your throat after all," he paused and briefly touched the cut, which was now healing, on Hermione's neck. "I'm so sorry," he said, looking into her eyes. Hermione felt her heart flutter. There was something so intense about the way he was looking at her, and the question she had been asking herself for months surfaces again in her mind: surely there was more to their relationship than straightforward friendship?

"Sorry?" she almost laughed, and sniffed, 'what on earth for, Ron?'

'Not being able to stop her doing this to you. The cut, these nightmares, everything. It's all my fault anyway,' he paused. 'Can I tell you something, Hermione?' He looked at her, pleadingly.

'Ron, it's not your fault. And of course you can,' replied Hermione, allowing her hand to rest on his.

'I have nightmares about it too, being there, hearing you, and not being able to do anything to stop her hurting you,' Ron looked down and shook his head, with a look of pain crossing his face. Hermione squeezed his hand, and he looked up.

'But like you said, we're here now, safe,' Hermione whispered, smiling feebly.

'Yes,' conceded Ron. 'Hermione, I promise, from now on, I will not let anything like that happen to you again - your life is more important than mine,'

'Ronald,' growled Hermione, 'don't be ridiculous, I could never let you sacrifice yourself for me - besides, hopefully, you'll never need to, we're decent witches and wizards, after all,'

'Speak for yourself,' grumbled Ron, and they both chuckled. Hermione lay down again, soothed and calmed by Ron's presence.

'Do you think Fleur will mind if you stay here, tonight, Ron? I feel much better when someone else is near me,' explained Hermione, mentally adding 'especially if it's you'.

'i s'pose not, I mean, we're just friends, after all, right?' Ron conjectured, and not saying what he wished he could: 'but I wish we were more, I'm so completely in love with you, Hermione, how will I ever tell you?' He suppressed his need to reveal this, plagued by the underlying doubt that she would not return his feelings...although her hand was still holding his. Maybe it wasn't such a long shot...but now wasn't the time. 'And after all you've been through...well it won't be a problem, they'll understand,' he continued. And with that, Ron slid under the covers, and the two of them lay there until finally, they both fell into the kind of peaceful sleep which can only be brought about by the presence of a loved one.


	4. The Burrow

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews! I really appreciate it (: I know this is strictly before the start of the book, but I just had to put it in!

It was a warm, sunny morning at the Burrow. Mr Weasley was pottering about in the shed; Fred and George were in Diagon Alley, as were Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. Ron was upstairs, recovering from the intense row that had ensued when he had reminded Mrs. Weasley he wouldn't be going to Diagon Alley - or to Hogwarts. It was that morning, anyway, that Hermione had designated for her arrival. Ron, having not seen either of his best friends for several weeks, was keen to make sure everything was in order for Hermione. He had been making sure Ginny's room was ready for her, and had even tried various cleaning spells, in an attempt to give Hermione the best welcome he could - he knew she liked things clean, and he wanted her to be at home. This was not only because she would be staying for several weeks, before Harry even arrived, but also because he knew that today, that very moment perhaps, she was saying goodbye to her home, possibly forever.

He moved into his room, and made the bed, opened the window and cleared up the various clothes and pieces of parchment that had accumulated with a quick flick of his wand. It was then that he heard a loud 'pop' from below.

'Hermione?' he called out, 'is that you?'

'Yes, Ron,' came the reply, 'come here, and help me with my trunk, will you?' Hermione, however, had barely been able to speak the word 'Yes' before Ron began careering down the stairs. Finally, he reached the bottom, where she was standing, breathless from running to great her, and a huge grin on his face. He strode down the last few steps and swept Hermione into a hug, inadvertently squashing the small, beaded bag she was clutching, between them. 'Oops,' said Hermione, 'be more careful Ron!' He released her, beaming, and she smiled back. He took a moment to examine her face, and it was obvious that she had been crying.

'So, Hermione, are you okay? How was the journey?' he questioned, with a mischievous smile.

'Short,' she replied, laughing.

'I see you've brought Crookshanks,' said Ron, noting the basket beside her trunk.

'Ah, yes,' said Hermione. 'I was rather hoping he could stay here, seeing as...' she trailed off.

Ron put his arm around her and squeezed her.

'Don't worry, mum'll be glad...the gnomes are running riot again - hopefully he'll get rid of them before the bloody wedding,' he grumbled. 'Lets take your stuff upstairs,' he continued. 'What should I do with Crookshanks? Levitate the lid off the basket from a safe distance? I thought he hated that thing.'

'Ah, yes, he does...' admitted Hermione. 'I thought it would be easier to give him a sleeping potion, than deal with him.'

Ron laughed 'I'll gentle tip him on to the sofa then - I just hope I'm not around when he wakes up! You go up, I'll follow you with your trunk.'

Hermione made her way up to Ginny's room, and set her beaded bag down on the bed she knew was hers. She sat down beside it. Ron, in his efforts to make the room 'perfect' for Hermione, had even put a photo of himself, Hermione and Harry in Hogsmeade on her nightstand. She picked it up and smiled. They were laughing, the snow was falling - it was perfect. Hermione felt saddened by the fact that things would not be that easy and happy for the three of them for a while. She put it back down, and noted the second item Ron had procured for her: a muggle clock. Tears began to run down her face, although she was smiling at his thoughtfulness.

It was at that point that Ron came in, levitating her trunk in front of him. He saw that she was crying, and instantly dropping the trunk - narrowly missing his own toe.

'Blimey, Hermione, they were meant to make you feel welcome, not make you cry!' He sat beside her on the bed, looking at her face. Hermione, embarrassed, could only look at her lap.

'I'm sorry Ron, it's so nice of you. But today was,' she paused, struggling to talk now, 'so hard. I had to charm them, Ron, make them forget all about me. I feel so alone; I'm nothing to them anymore. I never existed, all I ever did to make them proud... it's all gone.'

'Hermione, it's not all gone!' Ron comforted, 'I remember everything you've done, all your O.W.L grades, and 100 percents and everything else. You're certainly not nothing to me.' She looked up at him.

'But you aren't my parents, Ron. How would you feel if your mum and dad were under the impression you didn't exist?'

'Bloody hell, sometimes I think it would be easier - mum wouldn't nag!' Hermione attempted a feeble smile, Ron's eyes were so warm, and his smile encouraged hers, but she still couldn't manage it. 'Hermione' he said, 'I know this must be so hard for you.'

'Mhmmm,' she nodded, crying once again.

'But it's not the end, you'll see them again, when all this is over. You'll restore their memories and they'll remember you again.' In the mean time,' he continued, 'you'll be with me, and Harry, and blimey do we know you exist. We won't be able to manage without you, you know that.'

'That is true,' replied Hermione, drying her tears now. 'I can't let your mum see me crying, she'll only ask questions.'

'More questions you mean!' exclaimed Ron. 'She hasn't stopped, all summer. All she talks about is the wedding, and when she has a break from that, its time to interrogate me.' Hermione laughed.

'I can imagine.' They both smiled. Ron stood up, grabbing Hermione by the hand and pulling her up too. For a moment they were incredibly close together. Ron's ears turned deep red, and Hermione blushed. He quickly moved away, and Hermione looked down once more.

'Well,' said Ron, quickly breaking the awkward silence that had arisen, 'I know what I fancy - some Chocolate Frogs.'

'Ooh,' said Hermione enthusiastically, 'I could do with one too, actually!'

'I just happen to have some in my room, come on.' Ron hurried out of the door, and Hermione followed, after glancing back at the photo. 'It will be okay,' she thought. 'Ron and Harry are as good as family, and they need me.'

Meanwhile, Ron had just remembered which book he had left lying on his bed, and was sprinting up the stairs so Hermione wouldn't see it. Ron?' she called, 'What's the big rush?' and she hurried up the stairs after him.

'N-nothing!' said Ron, as Hermione came in the door. He was incredibly red-faced, and had barely managed to stuff 'Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm a Witch' into his sock drawer before Hermione came in. Jus' putting some underwear away,' he panted.

'Oh,' said Hermione, mildly suspicious. 'Okay. Where are those chocolate frogs then, Ronald?' She smiled.


	5. An Idea

Ron and Hermione looked on as Harry began to organise the fighters. They were his closest friends, and fiercest supporters, almost exhausted from the long journey that had led them back to Hogwarts. A smile, uninvited, crept onto Hermione's face. Ron, who had turned to her, about to suggest that they help Harry, commented on this:

'Seriously, Hermione? We're about to take on You-Know-Who and his pack of Death Eaters, and you're smiling?' He looked at her incredulously, and was met with an arched eyebrow. 'I mean I always knew you were mental, Hermione, but this…'

'Honestly, Ron, sometimes you're ridiculous,' whispered Hermione, as though she was afraid of being overheard, despite the hubbub of preparation around them. 'I'm smiling because this is where it all began, where we met. Where Harry belongs, and he's leading the fight against the man – thing – that killed his mother and father. Things have come full circle now, and it all ends here, today. It's almost a relief really…' Hermione trailed off, and checked herself. A pensive expression settled on her face as she continued to observe Harry.

'Like I said, mental,' sighed Ron. A voice inside him said 'She's right you know – as always. Everything could end here, and you and her will always have been friends and nothing more, she could never know how you _really _feel.' Ron's stomach leapt, and his face contorted for the faintest of seconds. He broke the silence between them again: 'shouldn't we, urm, do something? Harry seems to have forgotten we're here.' This was true, Harry was now deep in discussion with Professor McGonagall.

'You're absolutely right, Ron.' Suddenly she sprang into action, released from her moment of reverie. Here was the real Hermione, decisive, busy, and rummaging in her beaded bag, all the while moving towards a quieter corner of the room. Ron followed her, and eventually she found what she was searching for, and pulled out the small gold cup with a flourish, looking triumphant. 'We need to destroy this, before Harry comes across You-Know-Who. Seeing as we don't have the sword anymore, that could be difficult.' She paused, thinking. Harry was leaving the room with Luna. Cho Chang look crestfallen, and Ginny, who was glaring at her, sat down and looked away, her expression changing to a resolute sadness. 'Poor Ginny,' sighed Hermione, suddenly extremely glad that she and Ron had not been separated.

'Yeah,' said Ron, deep in thought, without realising what he was answering. 'Say, Hermione,' he paused, 'I've had an idea.' With that, he seized her hand and began walking her towards the door, grabbing a broomstick which had suddenly appeared against the wall, with no more explanation.

'Ronald, I trust your judgement, but do you mind telling me precisely what we are doing?' ventured Hermione, inquisitive, puzzled, and secretly thrilled that he was holding her hand so tightly.

'I'll explain when we get there – no time – it could take a while to get down there, not a moment to lose,' replied Ron, breathlessly and excited, as they slipped out of the door and broke into a run. They ran, hand in hand, past all the intense preparations for battle that were occurring, down to the second floor, and into the abandoned girls' bathroom.

'Ron, what on earth are we doing?' Hermione asked impatiently. 'Do you really think _Myrtle_ will know how to destroy a Horcrux, I doubt she even knows what one is – not that she's anywhere to be seen – they've rallied the ghosts you know –'

'No, Hermione, I'm not looking for Myrtle. Stop ranting and think back. Second year, Harry destroyed Tom Riddle's diary, a Horcrux, using –'

'A Basilisk fang!' interjected Hermione. Realisation dawned on her face – 'beautiful, perfect, lovely – Merlin's right foot!' Ron scolded his mind. 'Is now really the time to start mentally appreciating Hermione's face?' Meanwhile, Hermione had continued, 'Of course! How could I have not thought of that! Their venom is utterly deadly and destructive, and remains in their fangs. The skeleton will still be down there – oh you're brilliant Ron!' She hugged him tightly, desperate to be close to him, and to pluck up the courage to confess her feelings. For a moment, they were somewhere else entirely, where only the other existed, to be held on to forever, and where the other's presence, warmth, smell and love was to be drank in, before it was too late. They did not remain there very long, however, as neither knew they were not alone there, and feared that the other might wonder why the hug was so lengthy.

'Well,' said Ron, somewhat awkwardly, over the top of Hermione's head, as they held onto each other, 'not brilliant, just logical.' She shook her head, and, imperceptibly whispered, into his chest:

'Oh, Ron.' That was a whisper heavy with meaning, regret, worry, and hope. She pushed her feelings aside – 'as usual,' she quipped in her mind, annoyed that there never seemed to be a time to _talk_ to him about how she felt – and concentrated on the task in hand, in true Hermione fashion. 'Right well, now we know what we're doing, how do we get in?'

Ron let her go, gently and slightly unwillingly, and moved towards the taps. He examined each one:

'It's this one, here,' he announced, beckoning Hermione. 'See the snake?' He traced it with his finger, seemingly immersed in thought. 'Harry opened it, he spoke Parseltongue.' He looked at Hermione, who looked expectantly back at him. 'I don't know if it will work, but when –' Ron paused, almost shuddering at the memory of those distorted, dangerous, embracing figures – 'when we opened the locket, Harry said something, it must have been 'open'.'

'Do you remember how it sounded?' Hermione asked expectantly.

'Sort of like this,' Ron made a hissing noise, and to his astonishment the basin began to move. 'Brilliant!' he said. 'Come on, Hermione!' He jumped into the tunnel that had emerged without hesitation. Hermione stood for a moment, temporarily puzzled, and then followed him.

* * *

'Uff,' groaned Hermione, as she landed on top of Ron. 'Sorry,'

'S'okay, Hermione, you aren't heavy.' As if to prove this point, he scooped her up and put her on her feet. 'See?' he grinned.

'Now you're the mental one, Ron, smiling like a first year in Honeydukes,' quipped Hermione. 'Where are these fangs?'

'Urm, through here,' Ron took Hermione's hand and began to guide her through the maze of tunnels, using his borrowed broomstick for support. 'Careful, it's more slippery than a teenage Snape's hair down here,'

'Mmm,' replied Hermione, concentrating intensely on not falling over. Eventually the two of them reached the entrance to the chamber, and paused for a moment in awe.

'Bloody hell,' said Ron. 'Harry always said it was massive, but I didn't expect this.' He looked stunned. Hermione, meanwhile, had been scanning the cavernous space for what they were seeking.

'There!' she cried out, pointing.

'Right, we'll just fly in, pick them up and fly straight back out again. We've been down here for ages.' He straddled the broomstick and looked at Hermione. 'Hop on then, and hold on as tight as you like.' He immediately regretted saying this, and winced as Hermione gripped him like a vice. They flew into the chamber, and Hermione gathered up an armful of fangs, gingerly.

'This will be enough, won't it?' she asked, looking anxious, 'I think if I carry any more it won't end well.'

'That'll be fine, Hermione.' A sudden look of realisation crossed Ron's face. 'We can do the cup while we're down here! I think you should –' he paused, as Hermione was already rummaging in her beaded bag, having set down her Basilisk fangs.

'Bloody, thing,' she said through gritted teeth, 'I do wish you could use Summoning Charms on Horcruxes – here we go.' She placed the cup gingerly on the floor, and looked at Ron, who had cleared his throat:

'Hermione, the piece of soul in there, it won't go easily,' Ron said gently, 'Be prepared for something terrible to happen – or seem to happen.' He suddenly felt very concerned for Hermione's safety. 'She could easily get hurt,' he thought, 'It will get inside her mind.' He shuddered at the memory of his encounter with the locket, and squeezed Hermione's shoulders, then stood back. 'Just do it as fast as possible.'

Hermione slowly lifted one of the fangs, and pierced the blood red jewel on the right handle. A grey shadow came out of the cup, and flowed into Hermione like wind. She fell to the ground, eyes open but unblinking. 'HERMIONE!' roared Ron, 'Hermione, wake up,' he said, shaking her, 'Hermione, please!'

* * *

Inside Hermione's mind, a totally different scene was occurring. The Horcrux had killed Ron, and was now taunting her, a shadowy mass with a hissing voice:

'What now, Mudblood? What will you do without the blood traitor? Who will protect you from me? Who will save you from my loyal followers, prevent your death for having filthy blood? _Who_?' Hermione was sobbing, doubled over with grief. She had never felt such pain, not even under the Cruciatus Curse. 'It does not do to love, Miss Granger. You will only lose.' The scene changed. Ron was alive again, and Hermione's stomach leapt. He was changed, though; his eyes were hard and cruel, seemingly tinged with red. There was hate on his face, like the night he abandoned the tent.

'Ron!' she said, relieved, moving to hug him. He pushed her away, with a look of disgust.

'It's too late, Hermione, I don't want you anymore,' he said, in a contemptuous tone she had never heard from him before. 'You had your chance. You chose Krum, then McLaggen, and then Harry. You didn't want me. Now you can't have me. I'm marrying Lavender, and that's final.'

'Marrying - what? No, please, you can't do this. You don't love her, you broke up, this is all wrong,' Hermione was crying once more, desperate for Ron to be himself. 'See,' the hissing voice said into her ear, 'You have lost, Mudblood.'

'Oh, but I do,' said Ron, slowly, as if to draw more pain from Hermione. 'You think you know everything, Granger, but when it comes to people, to relationships, to love – you're a failure.'

'I AM NOT A FAILURE!' shouted Hermione, who, like in a dream, had suddenly realised she had the power to change what was happening. 'I need something to stab him with,' she thought, looking around. The Ron in front of her was becoming uneasy, moving and eyeing her warily.

'Don't try anything, Mudblood,' he spat.

'This is all in my mind, Ron, Riddle, whatever you are. You've made a mistake, coming in here. I'm in control, not _you._' She reached into her pocket and found a small fang, and smiled. 'You are not Ronald Weasely, you are not the Ron I love, you are nothing. Nothing at all, you are part of a broken soul who will never feel love. You will never amount to anything at all!' she said, moving towards the now shadowy figure and stabbing it where its heart might have been. The real Ron, who had been watching the seemingly lifeless Hermione for about five minutes, stroking her hair and whispering to her, was forced to move as she stood up and stabbed the second jewel. Hermione's vision crumbled around her, and she was left standing in front of the cup, which was disintegrating into an ash-like substance. She turned and saw Ron, who looked intensely thankful that she was standing up.

'You're okay, Hermione,' he said, 'You fell to the ground, it was like you were dead…' He trailed off. Hermione moved towards him and squeezed his hand.

'I'm fine, Ron, it made me see things. It said things, it made me doubt…' Now it was her turn to trail off. 'But none of it was real, you're still here,' she said, smiling. 'I think it's time to get back to Harry and tell him what we've done.' Ron nodded and climbed onto the broom. Hermione gathered up the remaining fangs and placed them carefully in her bag, before climbing on the back of the broom, to once again, hold Ron as tightly as she could, for the last time before they faced Voldemort.


	6. After The Battle

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of JK Rowling's wonderful universe, as much as I wish I did.**

**Please read and review, I appreciate every single one! My note is at the bottom, this time.**

* * *

She thought about him. His smell, the way his lips had felt under hers, how his very presence made her feel at ease, protected, and safe. She longed to have his fingers intertwined in hers, and to kiss him once again, with all the passion they had mustered only hours ago. But he was mourning, Hermione realised this. She was grieving too, with and for him, as well as his entire family, who were like a second one for her. The loss of Fred was devastating, and combined with those of Lupin, whom she had so admired, and Tonks, who had been full of vitality and youth and left behind a son...  
Hermione could not bear to be alone any longer.  
The girl's dormitory in Gryffindor Tower had offered her solace and a place to shower following their victory and jubilation, but now it was quiet, and she was alone, free to become numb and begin to grieve, as she knew she must. But she did not want to be alone. She needed Ron, and now that she was certain that he felt something much more than friendship towards her, she knew he would need her too. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she moved out of the door:  
'You look tired, sweetheart,' it said. 'Beautiful but battle-weary. Take a rest,' it suggested. Hermione ignored its comments, and wrestled her unruly hair, which had become practically uncontrollable, into a bun, on her way down the spiral staircase.

* * *

Upstairs in the boy's dormitory, Ron was lying on his old bed, gazing up at the plush red canopy and allowing his thoughts to wash over him. He had showered, because Hermione had told him to, and changed into the clean, white t-shirt, light jumper and jeans that she had pulled out of that infernal beaded bag and handed to him with a tender touch on his arm. Nothing too seductive, or full on, but knowing. Knowing that they were both recovering and needed time, alone, to come to terms with several facts:  
a) Voldemort was dead, they had succeeded  
b) Fred, Lupin and Tonks, among many others, had been lost  
c) They had kissed, and now had a relatively peaceful life ahead of them - together, even, perhaps?  
Ron mulled all of this over. He was relieved that now, his family were no longer in danger, and nor was Hermione or Harry. But he was filled with hideous grief over the loss of his brother, Fred. He and George were always a pair, he thought, one without the other is just wrong. They need each other, and we needed them both, to joke and make us laugh and - oh. His tears overwhelmed him for a while. He allowed himself to cry, knowing that he was alone, and that built up emotions were never any good.  
He composed himself a little, but still felt the pulling in his stomach, sadness pulling at his very insides, constantly, and tightening them as if it were a noose when he remembered he was in mourning. Ron turned his thoughts to other things. Her, namely. Hermione. Hermione. The most beautiful and brilliant girl on earth, who, mere hours ago, had launched herself at him, and kissed him with such enthusiasm that he had thought he was going to die of happiness.

What had it meant? Did she love him? He knew he loved her, more than he could possibly say. She was his everything, and he knew he would never love another quite as much as he loved her. He appreciated all of her; her laugh, the way she bit her cheek when she was concentrating or worried, her beautifully messy hair, her figure, the way she walked, and knew everything, and her constant beauty, especially before bed (and after it). His heart swelled with pride when he remembered that she had kissed him, and he couldn't help but grin at the memory. That would be the one he used when he needed to conjure a patronus. In fact...Ron pulled out his wand and focused, remembering how she had ran into his arms, kissing him, with a passion, gripping his hair with her fingers, as he responded as enthusiastically as he possibly could, pressing her against him and lifting her up, and how he had felt utterly complete. His patronus burst out of the end of his wand, stronger than he had ever managed before. The Jack Russell Terrier was brighter, and more sprightly, springing up onto the bed, before leaping from bed to bed, yapping and practically flying through the air, leaving a silky and transparent trail behind it. It padded over to him eventually, and nuzzled into his hand, demanding to be petted. Its presence comforted him; it was practically solid – Ron was surprised that his hand didn't pass straight through it, and said 'Blimey,' under his breath, amazed that this memory had produced something so powerful.

* * *

Hermione had been sat in the common room after padding down from her dormitory, not wanting to intrude on Ron while he was potentially still showering or partially undressed. Him being half-naked had never bothered her before; she had stayed at his house countless times, and seen him without a top on then, and of course occasionally when they had been camping, searching for Horcruxes…and she had admired him then. She had been physically attracted to him for years now, and still marvelled at his obvious strength and toned figure, pale and perfect, which opposed and yet complemented his bright red hair. Things had been different then though. She could only admire from afar, not wanting to push things too far, or scare him off, or even worse, make a fool of herself. Now, though, they had kissed, and he had responded. He had liked it, and she had been the one he had turned to after the battle, to hug so tightly that she was sure her ribs had been crushed, and to walk silently to Gryffindor Tower with, not needing to say anything but _knowing_ that they were meant to be together now. Hermione knew they had some talking to do, confessions to make, and a future to decide on, and that was important. If she saw him naked, or half naked, knowing that he wanted her too, well…Merlin, she felt like an animal. Control yourself, she thought; a war has just ended, only a couple of hours before. He has lost a sibling. He needs emotional comfort, reassurance and hope, and not animal sex. Suddenly, she heard barks from upstairs. Intrigued, she crept up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, and hovered in the doorway. Ron had his back to her, and seemed enraptured by the patronus he had evidently conjured. It jumped onto the bed beside him, and he was able to stroke it. Hermione gasped quietly – the charm was stronger than she had ever seen – Ron had performed extraordinary magic. He remained on the bed, stroking the silver terrier that had lain down by his side. Hermione felt as if she was intruding on something very private, and looked down at her feet. She had an inkling of which memory Ron might have used to produce such a Patronus, and was almost glowing with happiness and pride, remembering their very first kiss. She knew that he was the only one for her, and realised that she needed reassurance that now, now that everything was over, she could have him, and she could be his. She needed to talk to him, now, so stepped quietly into the room, and made her way to the bed, and sat beside Ron on it, facing in the opposite direction.

* * *

Ron heard Hermione enter the dormitory, and he knew what she was here for: a talk, an emotional one. His stomach lurched, and his brilliant patronus dissolved. Ron had never been particularly good with deep discussions, especially those involving emotions…She had even compared his emotional range to a teaspoon, once. He almost chuckled, but felt guilty. He needed her to know how much he loved her; he could not mess this up. She sat down on the bed, and he could smell her. Hermione's smell. Natural, more delicious than any fanciful perfume that Lavender had ever worn. He breathed in deeply, and turned to look at her. She still looked nervous, and strained – but that had been the same for months – and yet, underneath the surface, a faint glow seemed to be present. Happiness resided in the slight upwards curve her mouth had taken on, and the absence of a frown from her beautiful face. Merlin, she was gorgeous. He could have simply kissed her there and then, but didn't. Instead, he spoke:

'Hermione,' he whispered.

She looked back at him, into his glorious blue eyes, which were obviously filled with sadness, but also with warmth and tenderness.

'Ron,' she replied, smiling softly. She reached for his hand, and held it. He held hers back, strongly, safely, lovingly. 'I saw your patronus,' she paused, hesitating, 'it was amazing. Brilliant actually. You've really improved.'

'Oh, urm, yeah, well,' Ron blushed a little, embarrassed. 'I used to really struggle…I guess I never had a good enough memory before.' He smiled. 'But after earlier, today…I've never been quite so happy, so I tried to remember that feeling, and well, it just happened.' Hermione smiled at him, but looked a little confused.

'By today, do you mean, when the war was over?' She looked crestfallen, and was gazing at her lap. Ron squeezed her hand, and she looked up at him once again.

'No, I mean, urm, when we, uh, snogged earlier – I mean, kissed.' Hermione would prefer kissed, he thought, she was never a great fan of discussing _snogging._ He examined her expression carefully. She looked gleeful, and opened her mouth to speak, but Ron gathered up his courage and interrupted her. 'Look, Hermione, I've never been good with this sort of thing. If you start talking, I might never interrupt, just so that I never have to stop hearing your voice. The point is, we kissed, and it was right, _it was right_, and you know it was. It felt like you wanted it, and Merlin knows _I_ did.' He paused for breath, but Hermione did not even attempt to interrupt. 'I've wanted to kiss you for…well, since fourth year. Since I noticed you were a girl, someone beautiful and clever, and just perfect really. But then other things got in the way, like Viktor and Lavender and McLaggen, and then the war, and all our other stupid arguments in between. I should have told you years ago, and not wasted all this time, but I suppose I had to live through the bloody war to make me realise that I could never, _ever_ be without you, Hermione. I love you so much it makes my stomach hurt. You are perfect, and beautiful, and I love you more than life itself. You mean everything to me, and I never want to spend another day without you knowing that,' he finished animatedly. Granted, his speech had not been particularly articulate, and he was sure he had repeated himself, but at least the strength of his emotions was obvious, and he knew that was what mattered to Hermione. He squeezed her hand to let her know he had said all that he needed to. Hermione was beaming, and flung her arms around him. It looked like she was almost crying, and in any case, she was shaking. She hugged him tight, then moved away, but her arms remained around him.

'I love you too, Ron. I wish I had told you before now. I never want to be without you, I feel lost…. when you left I thought I would die.' Ron winced at this. 'I know I sound so soppy, and unlike me, but it's okay for me to be every once in a while. I love you, Ronald Weasley, and I don't intend to lose you now, or let any other girl have you, is that clear? I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours. Only yours.' Now it was Ron's turn to beam. Both of them were glowing with obvious happiness.

'Does that mean you're my girlfriend, then, Hermione?'

'Why, yes, I should say so,' she replied, giddily.

'Bloody brilliant,' said Ron, moving in to kiss her. An 'mmm' was all Hermione could manage in reply, but he could feel her smiling.

* * *

**Well, the first thing to say is sorry it took so long for me to update! I just sort of lost my inspiration, and I have a lot of other stuff going on so… Hopefully this chapter has made up for it! It may be the last, but there will probably be one or two more to follow – funerals and the like. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my previous chapters, like I said, I really, really appreciate them, and thank you to everyone else who has favourited or added the story to their alerts! Please continue to do so, it means _a lot_ to me. Finally, many thanks to my best friend and beta-reader, Grace, for her endless support:)**

**Love, littleblueteapot**


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